


BarbeQ

by endsoftheworld



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 14:34:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5500997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endsoftheworld/pseuds/endsoftheworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond is roped into cooking at the annual MI6 BBQ.<br/>Meanwhile, Q is contemplating whether to go, or pet his cat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	BarbeQ

“You can’t actually be expecting me to go to this.” Bond replied.

“I do expect you to, this is a task of the utmost importance. And besides, you owe me one for saving your skin back in Argentina.” M was right. She was always right, and Bond knew it.

“Fine” he submitted, “I’ll flip-burgers at your damn barbecue.”

The annual MI6 barbecue was held for all the heads of branches at MI6, as well as the double-ohs and a few subordinates. Traditionally, the BBQs were always held at the current M’s place of residence. Usually a nice manor out in the country side. A perfect spot, if it wasn’t too windy that day.

Of course Bond rarely ever attended. The one time that he did attend was because of the new 009, but she was stationed in Tanzania at the time. And by the time she got back she was in pieces.

“I suppose Moneypenny will be there” he reasoned thinking to himself as he walked out of M’s office, “but she just started seeing that one guy from Liverpool.”

“Liverpool.” Bond continued thinking to himself as he started up his car. “I’ve been on missions better than some of the people I’ve met in Liverpool.”

“That’s fine. Q will be there.” he thought as he opened his apartment door, “Baby Q, he’ll be there alright.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE NOT GOING?!” Bond yelled, as Q revealed to him this mission’s supply.

“Sorry Bond, I’ve simply got too much to do that day. And not all of us let M coax us into going.” Q replied as he pressed a button on a quaint belt. The belt then set off a series of powerful bursts of air at a mannequin, completely eviscerating it.

“Q, you have nothing going on, I don’t need MI6 training to know when you’re lying.”

“…and she didn’t coax me, I owed her one.” Bond said, following Q to what looked like an ordinary watch.

“Bond, you have no idea what goes on in my life when you’re not there.” Q gestured that Bond should put on some industrial earmuffs, as he did the same.

Q tapped the face on the seemingly ordinary watch, only to have it emit a sound that was high pitched, even through the earmuffs.

“And no Bond, she coaxed you. Unless you think saving your life is worth flipping a few burgers.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A week later, Bond had all but forgotten about the BBQ. He was mostly concentrated on the current issue in Zanzibar. The issue being the elimination of an illegal arms dealing ring that had obtained an unprecedented amount of yellow cake uranium.

After he had successfully disarmed the chief of the operation (he simply blew up his headquarters and strapped him to a missile Bond had reprogrammed to hit the moon), Bond boarded a private flight back to England. The steward walked down the aisle, as Bond eyed him, and placed a Walkman and a cassette on his tray table. “And your martini” the steward said, as he walked away. Bond finished eyeing him, and proceeded to listen to the Walkman, a grossly out-of-date method of communication he might add.

“Hello Bond” M’s voice rang through the earbuds after he placed the cassette in, “I hope you haven’t forgotten our deal. Be at my place at around 6. I realize you’re on your way back from a mission, but I have personally chosen your current steward to help you… relax.

And Bond, this tape will self-destruct…

…I’ve always wanted to say that.”

As the tape fizzled away all recorded evidence, Bond sunk into his chair as he groaned and coupled his head with his fingers. He had admired M for years, but her sense of humor when she wasn’t on duty was often deplorable.

He had plenty of time before the BBQ, and a few hours left on the plane. He shrugged, and figured he’d make the most of it as he called the steward in.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Q sat in his apartment. Alone. He was trying to contemplate what he was doing with his life at that very moment. He was trying to contemplate, to be exact, why he was sitting at home instead of going to the MI6 barbecue. Sure he was a bit of a social introvert, and most of the double-ohs were kind of jerks off-duty anyway, but Bond would be there. And even though their “relationship” was on the down-low (as most of Bond’s inter-office relationships were) he always enjoyed seeing him.

“Our relationship is so surreal”, he thought trying to distract himself from the BBQ he was missing. He was petting his one black and brown cat, Nicola. Sure Bond was astute when he was on a mission, hell, he was the perfect spy when he was just in headquarters. A bit unorthodox, to be sure, but one hell of a good spy. Probably the best one he ever had the privilege to be quartermaster for. “But when we’re together he acts nothing like how he does in headquarters, or on the field, or even when he was flirting with Moneypenny. And I know he sleeps around. He’s probably had his way with every man and woman in MI6” he chuckled to himself, “But no, when it’s just me and Bond he’s not himself. Not bad, just not familiar.”

“Sometimes he’ll even call me baby Q.” He was speaking out loud now to Nicola. “it’s always nice when he’s around. But of course I have to watch over you and Contessa. You’re clearly needing affection more than Bond is right now.” Almost as soon as he had said that, Nicola got up off of Q’s lap and ran over to bat some fuzz on the floor around. “Well come back now.” He ran out of the room.

“Contessa?” She ran over to the food bowl Q had prepared, took a few mouthfuls, ran up to the top of the counter (next to the unused kitty tower Q had bought a week ago for them) and promptly fell asleep.

“Fine!” Ejaculated Q, “I’ll go to the bloody barbecue!”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“So glad you could make it Bond.” M said, with a gleam in her eye as she patted 007 on the back.

Bond gave a sarcastic half-smile, as he flipped another patty. He was dressed in casual attire (“I’m not ruining any of my suits for this”) and had a “KISS THE SPY” apron draped over him. Every once in a while he’d glance up for moment from his grill to look around the party.

“No Q.” He thought. He knew he wasn’t coming, but was hopeful anyway.

“Ah double-oh six.” Bond said with a menacing smile, “here’s your patty. Let’s hope you’re more gracious to my hospitality than your predecessor.”

006 grimaced, and took a large bite out of his burger. No toppings or condiments. Well done meat.

“What a piece of shit.” Bond thought to himself. He was getting more and more on edge. Not only was he stuck at a party he had no intention of being at, but everyone surrounding him was a prick, save for perhaps M. And still no Q.

“Baby Q.” He chuckled to himself. No one heard him, but it was enough to bemuse himself. “I said it one time in the heat of the moment, and he hasn’t let it go since. Every time we meet.”

“What are you mumbling to yourself now Bond?” Asked a playfully familiar voice.

Bond turned around from his burger-based incarceration to meet eyes with someone who hadn’t been at the party before.

“Ah! Baby Q!” He said, loud enough this time for all of MI6 to hear, or at least the people at the party.

Bond bushed. Q blushed. They both looked at each other for what felt like several heated minutes, but in actuality was a few brief seconds. Nothing happened. No one had called them out. Then, Bond felt a fierce pat on his back.

“No need to inform everyone Bond” 006 said in a witty tone, “we all already know we’re at a barbecue.”

Q and Bond looked at each other with relief. Apparently no one was paying that much attention to them. Q scooted Bond over, took up a spare spatula, and started to help him cook patties.


End file.
